


Love Again

by flyingisland



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Finger Sucking, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingisland/pseuds/flyingisland
Summary: Shiro knew that he would be the one to ruin their arrangement. He knew that he would be the one to bring things to a level that neither of them signed up for when they started this.





	

It might have started innocently enough—with a small touch that lasted just a little bit too long, or a smile that seemed out of place—but Shiro isn’t stupid enough to convince himself that this is anything but absolutely degenerate anymore.

Maybe, in the deepest, most guilty recesses of his mind, he might be able to convince himself that it’s purely for the sake of learning to survive in the lonely, barren black hole of space. Maybe he could tell himself that they’re just learning to live with the stress of the entire universe on their shoulders.

But Keith is just too delectable to resist, and maybe that’s really enough. Maybe it’s fine to accept that, for once in his life, he wants something and he’s taking it, and that’s all that needs to be said.

Keith doesn’t think about it too much. He doesn’t struggle with the concept of casual sex in the dark corners of the ship late at night, when no one is around to find them. He meets up with Shiro reliably every single time, and he takes what he can get. He accepts this situation happily, and he always leaves when they’re done.

Back to his room, after a quiet, gentle kiss on the lips. A small smile, the ghost of a hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

And Shiro doesn’t understand how these things are supposed to work, not entirely. He’s watched the midday soaps about couples sneaking off to fornicate in private, but someone always has to ruin it. Someone always has to develop feelings and demand for such things to end.

But Keith never asks for more than he’s given. He never demands that Shiro announce their relationship to the rest of the crew, and he never threatens to out them if nothing changes.

And he wonders, guiltily, if the one who will inevitably ruin things will be himself. If maybe, someday, these feelings that he has for Keith—the happiness that swells within him when he sees Keith smile, hears him laugh. The love that he knows that he’s only avoiding when he lets Keith leave at night instead of asking him to stay—will warp into an ugly shadow of itself and overtake him.

He rises early in the morning with these thoughts on his mind. As he showers, he can only imagine the night that they holed themselves up in here—the way that he’d tangled his fingers in Keith’s wet hair. How slippery they’d been as he’d grasped Keith’s hips in his hands and pinned him against the shower wall.

It might be driving him insane.

 _Keith_ might be driving him insane.

He can’t even eat breakfast without thinking about how he’d pressed Keith’s back against the table and pushed his thighs apart, taking his erection between his lips and swallowing him until Keith was nothing but a writhing, begging mess.

Right in Lance’s seat. He’ll never understand why they had to pick that spot, but Keith had been adamant.

Drying off his hair reminds him of Keith working a towel through his bangs after they’d finished their bathroom romp. Walking down the hall toward the dining room brings back memories of taking him right in the middle of the floor under the hum of the fluorescent lights.

His bad decisions are slowly coming back to haunt him, he thinks, and ever worse, he doesn’t feel guilty about them at all.

Keith barely looks up at him as he enters the dining hall. Everyone is gathered around the table, tiredly spooning the same green goo into their mouths that they’ve eaten every morning since they started this journey. Allura is speaking with Coran about something at the head of the table, and when she spots him, she smiles and ushers him over.

“Shiro, you’re awake,” she says, her grin wide and warm as her hand presses against his shoulder to pull him closer, “We’re nearing a new galaxy. Coran and I were just speaking about the various resources that we’ll need for maintenance around the ship.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Keith looking up, his spoon pressed between his lips as his eyes burn holes up and down Shiro’s body. He sputters out a reply, forcing his attention on Allura’s face as she continues to speak, but he can’t shake the feeling of Keith’s gaze roving over all of the exposed pieces of skin through his clothes. Uncomfortably, he shuffles from foot to foot, struggling to pay attention despite the thousands of filthy thoughts and blurry, erotic memories swirling around in his head.

“So this planet was a known ally of Altea before Zarkon’s rule, so Coran and I think that they might still be willing to assist us—”  


Keith’s lips, damp and eager, planting small kisses down his throat. Keith’s hands reaching forward and dragging themselves over all of the old scars, the fresher, healing wounds. Keith consuming him completely in the dark, whispering things against his skin, nipping at his flesh with sharp teeth and running over the marks with a wet, hot tongue.  


“—we really need that mineral if we’re going to be able to go into hyper-drive more often. Our current inventory is not going to last us much longer. So once we arrive, I’d like for you and the Paladins—”  


_Keith folding so beautifully beneath him, splayed out on the control room floor under the light of so many stars passing through the window._

_Keith, flushed and pink, dotted with love-marks blossoming up like purple roses under his skin._

Keith, running trembling hands through his hair, dark, glassy eyes peering up through messy bangs and picking him apart as though there are no barriers between him and the outside world at all.  


With a glance in Keith’s direction, Shiro nearly loses his cool right then and there. Keith’s eyes are locked right on his face, a gentle flush painting his cheekbones and fading over the bridge of his nose. On open, pouty lips, he’s resting his empty spoon, lapping out the hint of a pink tongue every so often to tease the tip.

Shiro clears his throat loudly, turning back to Allura so quickly that he startles everyone involved. Coran is looking at him with raised brows, tugging at the corner of his mustache and cocking his head to the side. Allura’s cheeks darken, and he isn’t sure if she’s seen what he’s seen or not—if she suddenly understands the implications of Keith’s actions or if she’s just unsure whether or not Shiro has finally gone completely insane.

“I-I… I got it, Allura. We’ll organize this better once we get closer to the planet, okay?” His voice cracks right at the middle, his face so hot that he feels as though he might melt into a puddle through the cracks in the tile floor. “I’m—I need to… to talk to Keith about something. I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me.”

Keith doesn’t smile as he pulls away. He sets down his spoon into his empty bowl and his face stays placid. Even as Shiro grabs him by the back of his shirt and hauls him up, he shows no indication that he’s won this mental battle.

And that’s usually what Shiro likes about him: his subtlety.

But today, his eyes give him away. Today, no matter how silent he is while Shiro all but drags him through the door and down the hall, his eyes are singing their own quiet song of victory.

Keith is silent all the way down the hall. He doesn’t struggle in Shiro’s grasp and he doesn’t try to pull himself free. Shiro can feel the cockiness coming off of him in waves—the frustrating, charming, all-consuming realization that Keith has pushed his buttons in all the right ways to get exactly what he wants from him.

They barely make it to Keith’s room, barely get a chance to allow the door to slide open and step inside before Shiro’s shoving him against the wall and kissing him harder than he’s ever kissed anyone in his life. 

Keith laughs a little, through a ragged sort of groan. Shiro’s hands are cold as they slide up under his shirt. His mouth is hot and eager as he nips along the exposed spots of skin around his throat. The lights flicker on belatedly, and Shiro isn’t sure how comfortable he is doing this where Keith can see him, but he realizes that he doesn’t care at all—not this time. Not after everything that they’ve been through together.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith nearly chokes out, sliding gentle hands down the sides of his arms, “Why don’t we… um… the bed—”

With a nod, Shiro hoists him up and helps him to the bed. Again, Keith doesn’t resist, and Shiro wonders if maybe he actually enjoys being coddled like this. If there’s a small part of him that wants to be lifted up, to be spoiled—and it’s such a dangerous thought that he vows to shove it to the back of his mind for the rest of his life.

If he were ever to say this to Keith, he’s sure that he wouldn’t survive without a few permanent scars. Surely, it’s not that at all.

When Keith gets like this—when he’s begging and he’s keening and just asking to be touched, he’ll put up with just about anything to get what he wants. Shiro reasons with himself that it’s nothing but that. At the end of the day, and at the end of this long journey through space to defeat the evil that hides in the dark corners of the universe, they’ll return home and they’ll go their separate ways. Shiro will reunite with his family. Keith will search for his own.

They’ll settle down, they’ll have children, and Keith will never think of the lows that he sunk to in order to quell his own loneliness ever again.

Keith settles on his back on the mattress, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it blindly into the room. He’s fiddling with his belt next, setting it aside more gingerly, and Shiro takes a moment to watch him undress. There’s a sliver of skin peeking out from under his shirt—a smooth, pale, flat stomach devoid of Shiro’s smattering of scars. He’s soft in all of the places that Shiro doesn’t even remember being soft in anymore. He’s a complete person—lacking nothing too important. He’s beautiful and unblemished. He’s everything that Shiro covets and knows that he doesn’t deserve.

“Stop watching me and take off your clothes,” Keith bites out, forever tactless and just a little too aggressive during times like these, “You’re freaking me out—just… staring at me like that.”

Shiro resists the urge to tell him that he’s too gorgeous _not_ to stare at, and only because he wants to leave this room with all of his remaining part intact.

Instead, Shiro works his shirt over his head, discarding it beside the bed. With a knee on the mattress, he leans forward and plants a kiss against Keith’s lips, taking in the smell of him, the softness of his skin, the thrumming of his heartbeat seeming to bellow out between them like a silent SOS. Keith’s fingers are hesitant as they come forward to comb through his hair—or what’s left of it, at least. His nails are dull and unkempt, but they feel good scraping against his scalp. The sensation of it, and the heat in the room, the way that Keith’s eyes beg for him to get a move on it and stop stalling—it sends an electrical pulse of pleasure down his spine into the pits of his belly.

He pulls back, unbuckles his own belt. Keith tugs his shirt over his head, works his pants around his ankles and kicks them off. They’re watching each other carefully. They’re playing a secret game of chicken, to see who might ruin this moment, who might back out and call the whole thing off.

And Shiro wonders, before he takes off his underwear and climbs completely onto the bed, if Keith is just as afraid as he is that this arrangement will someday end. If maybe, deep down in his heart, he wishes that they could stay like this forever.

As though he senses the thoughts circulating through Shiro’s head and doesn’t appreciate them one bit, Keith scowls, pulling himself over on his hands and knees and shoving his backside into Shiro’s crotch. Shiro lets out a small noise—startled and ridiculously aroused. His hands find their way to each of Keith’s cheeks with the intention of easing them off.

But then he’s squeezing, and Keith is pressing firmer against him, and the entire world shifts a little—thrown onto its side as arousal courses through his veins and his cock springs up to attention.

Keith, the dirty little bastard, knows exactly how to unravel him. He always knows just which buttons to push to get what he wants.

“There’s lube in the drawer,” Keith says simply, as though he’s talking about the weather. As though it’s completely reasonable for that sort of thing to be there. Shiro opens his mouth to speak, to ask any of the questions currently bubbling up inside of him, but Keith laughs and adds, with another press of his ass against Shiro’s erection, “I got it from that stupid mall. Don’t ask.”

Honestly, that only raises more questions, but Shiro chooses to keep his mouth shut.

He leans forward and opens the drawer. Beneath an assortment of other things, he finds the bottle. It’s already half empty, but in the heat of the moment, he’d never thought to ask questions about it before. He wonders how Keith got ahold of it when Coran hadn’t given them any money. He imagines a stand of free samples in front of some depraved alien sex shop in the space mall, and he wonders what sort of expression Keith might have made when he picked it up.

Did he asks the clerk questions? Did he say to them, _“I’m half Galra, but my boyfriend is human. Is this safe? Will it work?”_

Something about that seems too erotic for him to handle. Keith, forever gruff and standoffish, forever aloof in social situations with only his eye on his own goals actually going out of his way to pick up something like _lube_ so they could have these little flings more efficiently.

He shakes his head, willing the nerves away. Now isn’t the time for such dangerous thoughts.

They’ll talk about it later. For now, he slides back into place, uncapping the bottle and dribbling a small amount over his human fingers. Keith grunts as he pulls back a little, rubbing the lube between his fingers to warm it up before pressing one between his cheeks.

Like so many things, they’ve done this a dozen times before, but that doesn’t stop the familiar feelings of nervousness from swelling up inside of him. It doesn’t stop the guilt from smothering his heart and squeezing his lungs—the thoughts roiling about in his head, telling him, _‘Keith is better than this. He’s still young. He’s still pure. He has his entire life ahead of him and you’re ruining him. You’re burning out the best of him. You’re leaving a big black stain on him that he’ll never be able to wash out.’_

He hesitates with a finger pressed against Keith, barely prodding in. And Keith grabs his wrist, slides him forward, and stammering in his frustration, he tells him, “S-stop overthinking it. Just—just do it.”

He laughs nervously and finally, he does just that. Keith is warm and tight. He’s making little noises against the sheets. Searching around inside, he finds that little spot—the one that has Keith’s back arching higher and higher, spreading his thighs as a small tremor runs up his spine. Shiro bites his lip and slides another finger inside. He watches Keith’s fists clutching white against the sheets. He listens to the ragged sound of his breathing, the little moans, the little whispers to go faster, to go harder, to hurry up and _put it in_.

When he feels that Keith is ready, he pulls his fingers out, pumping idly at his erection and smearing the last of the lube from base to tip. It twitches in his grasp, ready and eager, and Keith isn’t much better now. He’s pressing his ass high in the air, and Shiro can hear him cursing under his breath.

“S-stop looking,” he sneers, “Just—just put it in.”

And Shiro does, slowly. He slides in, sucking in a deep breath. His flesh hand creeps along Keith’s tight stomach, over jutting ribs and angular shoulders. By the time he’s all the way inside, he’s practically on top of Keith, with one hand cupping his cheek and the other holding him steady at the hip.

A tight, overwhelming sort of heat surrounds him. An insatiable urge to show Keith just what this means to him—how this makes him feel, how it makes him imagine that he isn’t the dirtiest, most useless thing in the universe—it rattles through his bones. It sinks into his pores. It freezes him in place for three torturous heartbeats as he sits still and wills this wave of euphoria to pass.

Keith nips at his hand, taking a few fingers into his mouth. As the cloud of ecstasy subsides, all that he can focus on is the tenseness of Keith constricting around him, and the feeling of that wet tongue dragging over his fingers.

With a shaking breath, he pulls out slightly, pressing himself back in and biting back a groan.  

Keith’s breathing is ragged and hot against his skin. His back arches ever-higher, pressing himself firmer against Shiro’s hipbones and shoving him deeper and deeper inside. A keen bubbles in the back of his throat, and Shiro wishes more than anything that he could see more of the dark flush staining his skin than just the pink tips of his ears.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith bites out, fists trembling and tangled in the sheets beneath him, “I—I want you to touch me.”

Shiro nods shakily, letting out a sharp breath through his teeth as he straightens out and pulls his hand from Keith’s lips, cock twitching as a strand of saliva strings out from his mouth. But Keith bites down at the last second, striking an electrical shock of pleasure up his spine as he moves forward ever-so-slightly before pushing himself back.

“Not—not with that one,” his words are garbled around his fingers. Deep inside, he tightens around Shiro’s aching cock. “I—I want you to touch me… with the other hand.”

For a moment, he thinks that he just didn’t hear him correctly. He thinks that he might have gotten wrapped up in the moment and fantasized Keith’s words. But Keith is peering at him, red-faced, over his shoulder, bucking back against him as though that might hurry him along.

Through the fog of pleasure and his own insecurities, he obliges. He’s thankful that his prosthetic doesn’t tremble as he pulls it from Keith’s hip, but he’s uncertain that any of this is a good idea. Sometimes, just after they’re finished, he can spot the purpling of bruises where he’d grasped a little too hard, and he wonders why Keith never stopped him. Was he afraid? Did he think that it would hurt Shiro’s feelings? Did he grit his teeth and accept the pain as part of loving a monster, or—

Does Keith… _like it_?

He can’t feel Keith when he ghosts a hand around his erection, but he can feel the way that he tenses up around him. He can feel the tiny shakes, and he can hear the small hiss of breath through his teeth, muffled by his face against the sheets. He can feel the way that his jaw slacks against his hand, the lazy circles that his tongue plays against his human fingers.

And when he pulls out, just a little, Keith lets out a long, low moan, melting in his grasp like ice cream in the sun. Feet against the tops of his thighs, Keith’s toes curl. His hands loosen their grip on the blankets. He falls forward just a little, pulling himself away from Shiro enough that the sensation of it prickles pleasure through both of them.

With a small, breathy laugh, Shiro slides back inside. Gradually, his slow thrusts pick up speed, and his awkward, clumsy strokes tighten around Keith’s shaft, lubricated by precum, egged on by the moans growing only louder and more needy around his fingers.

A pressure begins to build inside of him. Keith is strangling out a noise, so tight, so hot around him as he cums over Shiro’s mechanical fingers, dotting the sheets below with his seed.

And Shiro cums soon after, wrapping an arm around Keith’s chest, pulling him close, and whispering a garbled mixture of words that he hopes Keith is too far gone to understand.

They slope off to the side as the lights dots his vision and the heat subsides. His arms wrapped around Keith, his softening erection still buried inside of him. Keith grasps his metal hand lazily, darting out that pink tongue and lapping up the strings of cum.

Shiro’s chest tightens, and he knows that he’ll remember that later. The image of it—of Keith sucking on his prosthetic fingers—will be burned into the back of his mind forever.

Keith rises then, to gather his clothes and face the rest of their day, and for a mere moment, Shiro watches him. He watches those lithe muscles working under his skin as he bends over. He watches the small, chiseled globes of his ass presented to him again as Keith bends down.

And he reaches a hand forward—the fake one, which surprises even himself—and grasps it around Keith’s wrist.

“Why don’t you stay for a bit?” He asks. Something dark flickers through Keith’s eyes. Something softer, sadder, settles deep in the wrinkles of his resulting smile. “We have the day off. Why don’t you just relax?”

Shiro knew that he would be the one to ruin their arrangement. He knew that he would be the one to bring things to a level that neither of them signed up for when they started this.

But Keith sets down his clothes and climbs back into bed. He rolls over, burying his face in Shiro’s chest and closing his eyes.

His breath is warm against Shiro’s skin. His fingers draw small, gentle circles over his back.

And he whispers, as though he doesn’t think that Shiro can hear him, “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> So season two brought back all of my Sheith feelings full-force, and for the life of me, I could not find any smutty Sheith. So, of course, as these things go, I decided to make some myself! That being said, if you want to maybe... venture over to [my tumblr](http://mothisland.tumblr.com) and send me some recs (smutty or no), I'd be forever in your debt! 
> 
> So I'm really not sure if I did them justice, but this was my first Sheith fic, so I hope you enjoyed it regardless! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, the title is a reference to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ks0GQ44xR4I), which is just about as NSFW as this fic was supposed to be before I went and made it all sugary and romantic... Oh well, maybe next time!


End file.
